Ritual Demarcation
by Zelda Ophelia
Summary: His yearly Thanksgiving ritual has something new. For love kate walsh's prompt Mac/Stella, first date. Thanks to E for the beta!


Mac gets his yearly Thanksgiving invitation from Sid on the Monday before, late enough for him to have possibly made plans, but early enough that the invitation of something to fallback on doesn't sound like he had been forgotten. They've done this every year since Claire's death--Sid's way of making sure he doesn't spend what's traditionally a family holiday alone. He'd refused that first year, the pain of loss too harsh, too overwhelming, to want to spend the day in anyone's company.

He'd accepted the next, feeling stiff and out of place surrounded by the close-knit family. He'd nodded and smiled as needed through the meal, from the multiple appetizers to the pecan pie. That had been his undoing: pecan had been Claire's favorite, something she'd made every year whether they were celebrating the holiday at home or planning to travel to visit family. Mac had choked down two bites before excusing himself, explaining that something had come up last minute and he was afraid he couldn't stay. There had been no other last minute invitations; instead, he walked aimlessly through the city, not surprised that his internal compass had guided his steps to Ground Zero.

He hasn't eaten pecan pie since. He can't.

::

This year's invite comes with the usual "if you don't have any other plans, we don't want you to be alone on Thursday" disclaimer attached. He thanks Sid, but declines; he has something different in mind this year.

Reed is spending the holiday with his parents, traveling to visit their families. They had invited him along, offering him a chance to meet his stepson's extended family. He had turned it down, explaining that his job made him reluctant to leave the city over a holiday while making his own plans for dinner with Reed after their return. It was, as excuses go, fairly feeble, and he hadn't been able to look at Reed, knowing the younger man saw through it. But he'd also seen the relieved looks on the Garrett's faces.

Even after several years, there's still some uncertainty on everyone's part as they continue to try to demark various lines and boundaries in the relationship.

::

Thanksgiving at Ground Zero has become something of a tradition for him. Claire had loved the holiday, so it seems fitting to spend part of it there. Mac leans his forehead against the fence, gazing out at a space that will always be too empty. It's hard to believe it's been this long--some days it feels like it was only yesterday; others it seems like a lifetime ago.

Pressed up against the chain-link, he is surrounded by others who have come to remember their lost loved ones. He spends time with his memories, giving thanks for that which he had before turning to leave.

His job has long since taught him the dangers of dwelling in the past.

::

Even on Thanksgiving, the city is busy, filled with a multitude of things to do. He bypasses it all, walking through streets that have been like a second home. Mac knows this route by heart, having first taken it in those painful days when he hadn't known where else to go or who to lean on. Then he'd taken it out of habit when he realized he didn't have anywhere else to go. If everyone has a rock, this is his.

And he's not the only one who shouldn't spend this day alone.

::

She's expecting him, opening the door before he's barely finished knocking. He had asked her this time instead of just showing up out of the blue, had asked if she had plans, if she wanted to spend the day with him. They had both understood that this would be more than just two friends going to dinner together. Even then she had offered to cook, and it had taken nearly ten minutes - and finally spilling the name of the restaurant he'd made reservations at - to convince her it was meant to be a treat for both of them. He hadn't been about to let her cook an elaborate meal for them. Not tonight.

"Hi," he says, trying to squelch his nervousness as she steps out her apartment door. "You look nice."

Stella blushes, smoothing down her black cocktail dress. "Thank you. You do, too."

"Thanks." He pauses, searching for the right words before continuing, "Are you ready?"

He realizes as the words leave his mouth that he's not just asking if she's ready to go, but if she's ready for em_this_/em, ready for things to change, for them to cross a line when they can't go back.

And she recognizes it, too, giving him a smile that sends waves of relief crashing over him. "Yes."


End file.
